First Kiss
by Chariline
Summary: USUK, AU: Alfred knows he's being ridiculous and that he shouldn't be as nervous as he is. But shouldn't a first kiss be special? Rated T for language.


Alfred thinks he's going to die. He's been dating Arthur Kirkland for four weeks now, and at the end of nearly every date it's the same routine: walk Arthur to the door, smile and chat about when they'll talk again, and then they're standing on Arthur's doorstep, staring at each other, silent and awkward. There's nothing else to do but go for it, Alfred thinks, and every time he thinks that he can do it, he freezes. "G-Good night Arthur," he'll stutter, then lean forward and press a chaste kiss to the other's cheek before walking quickly back to his car, head bent to hide his burning red ears. Every time, he misses Arthur's small, frustrated sigh.

* * *

Biology class, when he's cleaning up after cutting open a dead frog, Alfred is ambushed by his best friend. "Yo, Al!" Gil shouts, leaping onto his friend's back and cackling as Alfred nearly topples forward into the frog guts.

"Gil, get off, I'm gonna get a shirt full of spleen!" Al shouts back, trying to sound annoyed, though he's grinning.

Gil slides off and leans against the lab table opposite Al, watching him sloppily clean up, using the same paper towel to wipe up blood and then to rub at the scalpel. "How're things going with the boyfriend?" he asks and, as a good friend would, adds with a wide grin, "Ya get it in yet?"

Alfred flushes and his hand slips, making the scalpel fall from his hands and into the sink. "G-Gil! No, don't - you're fuckin' awful sometimes, ya know that?" he asks, giving up on cleaning and turning to face his friend, face uncharacteristically red and eyes downcast, a rarity for someone as outgoing as Alfred

"That bad?" the albino asks, arching a nearly-invisible brow.

"We haven't - we haven't even kissed yet," Alfred mutters, shifting on his feet.

"Dude - no, you're totally shitting me, aren't you?"

"I kinda wish I was…"

Gil's red eyes widen in surprise, and his usually playful expression turns serious. "Are you scared or something? 'Cause if ya are, I can see why. Kirkland's kind of a tight-ass - "

"No, that's not it," Alfred interrupts, finally looking up from the floor, eyebrows knitting together. "And don't call him that, he's actually really fun on dates." He shakes his head slightly. "No, it's like, I don't wanna screw it up, y'know? Didn't'cha ever feel that way with Lizzie?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, I mean, I still worry I'm gonna screw everything up with her…" Gil's face brightens suddenly into his usual confident grin and he adds, "But I'm awesome and I know she'll still like me no matter what! You just gotta work on being more confident with it, dude." The grin softens into a friendly smile and Gil stands up straight, patting Al on the shoulder on his way out. "You totally have frog spleens on your shirt, by the way."

* * *

Their next date is to a bowling alley - strangely, on Arthur's request. "Why would ya wanna do that?" Alfred had asked when the green-eyed teen had proposed it to him.

"I haven't been to one in a few years and I think you could make it fun for me," Arthur had answered, glancing up from his textbook to smile at Alfred, pushing any further thought from his mind.

Here they are, now, and Arthur is kicking his ass at the game, getting a strike nearly every time, bowling an almost perfect game, and Alfred is tossing gutter balls, his mind far from the slippery-floored alleyways and cheesy neon lights flashing on them from the ceiling. I'm going to kiss Arthur tonight, he tells himself, and Alfred always manages to tell that to himself as he goes up to bowl, and it never fails to make his stomach do back-flips and his aim to be completely off, resulting in the telltale thud of a poorly-thrown ball, followed by it rolling swiftly into the gutter.

"Bit off your game, love?" Arthur calls as Alfred comes back to sit down on the bench by their lane. Alfred's stomach does a loop-de-loop; he loves it when Arthur calls him one of his silly pet names.

"Nah, I'm just lettin' you win," he answers, grinning through the lie, though on any other night it would've been the truth. Alfred is a sore loser and a sore winner, whereas Arthur is only a sore loser, so he figures it's best to let the other win.

Arthur rolls his eyes and stands up, flicking Alfred's forehead as he walks by. "I think you're just awful at the game and are too embarrassed to admit it," he taunts over his shoulder before picking up the ball and hefting it up to his shoulder, striding neatly forward and letting the heavy ball go with a fluid movement that ends with a gentle flick of the wrist to give it a neat spin, letting it catch all the light from overheard as it rolls straight into the center of the pins. Another perfect strike.

* * *

They play best two out of three, for Alfred's pride's sake, and Alfred loses spectacularly, though that's hardly on his mind as he drives Arthur home. Arthur is an introvert by design and after every date, without fail, as soon as he buckles himself into Alfred's passenger seat, he reaches over and turns the radio on to a classic rock station. He knows most of the songs and once explained to Alfred that he likes the familiarity. Arthur relaxes into the seat and turns his head to look out the window, quietly singing along to whatever Beatles hit is currently playing.

When they pull into Arthur's driveway Alfred takes a moment to try and relax, telling himself to let go of the steering wheel and unbuckle, because he can feel Arthur's questioning gaze on him. "Sorry, still tryin' to get over my epic fail of a game tonight," he jokes, but it is forced, and Alfred knows that Arthur can tell by the crashing sound of his silence.

They walk up to stand to Arthur's door together, chatting idly as they do every time, though Alfred can sense a difference in their shared air, a sort of tension that wasn't there in the bowling alley or the car. He's pretty sure he was the one who caused it.

Then they are on Arthur's front stoop, looking at each other, and Alfred swears there's an expectance in Arthur's eyes, a sort of impatience lingering behind the calm green of his eyes. Alfred tells himself, I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna kiss him, but he freezes again. "Well, good night, Arthur," he says, softly, and leans in to kiss Arthur's cheek.

It happens so quickly he almost misses it.

As Alfred leans in, Arthur does as well, and suddenly there are soft, warm lips pressing against his own, and Alfred freezes for a moment before adding pressure of his own, light, chaste; they don't need to rush a first kiss. After just a short moment Arthur pulls away and so does Alfred, straightening up as Arthur backs away slightly, smiling widely. The last time he smiled with such glee, Alfred had just gotten up the nerve to ask him out. "What was that?" Alfred asks, maybe a bit breathless, and feeling like he's just swallowed a star as a grin spreads across his face.

Arthur's smile slips into a sly grin of his own, small and subtle, and he only answers, "I'll see you tomorrow, Alfred," before turning and slipping into his house.

Alfred walks back to his car with his mind on fire and his lips still warm from Arthur's kiss. A joyful laugh burbles up from his throat as he sits in the car, starting it and grinning hugely as he realizes that tomorrow, he gets to kiss Arthur again.

* * *

**A/N: Just a short little something I wrote the other night! I'm actually doing this 50-day writing challenge thing; it'll be posted on my Tumblr because I wouldn't want to post everything up here; some pieces I know I won't be so confident in. Anyway, if you could drop a review letting me know what you thought, that'd be great!**

**~Chari**


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